


(no) dice

by bookoftheazuresky



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Canon - Anime, Gen, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Shadow Games, Too Dumb to Live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8684257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookoftheazuresky/pseuds/bookoftheazuresky
Summary: Dartz did send someone after the soul of the wielder of the Millennium Ring- but only once.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to take a look at what Bakura might have been doing during the DOMA Arc, given Dartz’s apparent fascination with Yami and his rivals. Given that the Seal of Orichalchos is a card, but a Shadow Game can be anything, and Bakura’s demonstrated tendency to cut his opponents off at the knees if he can manage it, I doubt it went well for whoever Dartz sent. While this scenario takes place in the anime continuity, it draws heavily on the original manga, as both Yami and Bakura are shown to like (and be very good at) using dice in Shadow Games.
> 
> Thanks to DivineMadness and meadowlarked for betaing, even though this isn't their series.

Domino City was well known as a place where any gaming desire could be satisfied: anything from the sleek, futuristic consoles provided by Kaiba Corp to the more traditional boards offered by places like Go salons. This little convention was somewhere in between, set up for fans of that ubiquitous pastime requiring little more than paper and dice: the tabletop role playing game.

Though, Isaac reflected, fingering a necklace set with a poison green stone, this crowd had a taste for more elaborate set ups. He passed by a booth displaying elaborately painted figurines no taller than a few inches, lovingly detailed and with a price to match the work that had gone into them. The proprietor was engaged in a lively discussion with a few attendees, gesturing with his hands to make some point.

Isaac turned his gaze and made his way past the vendors and into the back halls of the convention center. With the much-advertised panel running in the large conference room near the front, they were nearly empty, just a few staff members and attendees roaming the hallways. The sounds of the front rooms died to a low, constant murmur back here, soaking into the red carpets and light gold wallpaper.

A sign had been posted discreetly by one of the open doors in the small cul-de-sac he paused at, the heading marking it as “Game Room 3” with a listing below of the hours and game sessions it provided. Isaac leaned against the doorframe, checking inside. As the sign had indicated, there were no games running at the moment. The elaborate campaign tables and their convenient folding companions were temporarily abandoned where they stood, strewn with papers and pens and books laid open to particular diagrams. However, there was still someone in the room even now, just closing up his laptop to slip into his computer bag.

The slender teen looked up, drawing his pale brows together as Isaac came into the room. “I’m sorry, this room is closed for the next hour,” he said politely. “If you’re looking to join a group, you should come back then.”

Isaac took in the willowy frame, the long fall of silver-white hair, the slightly wary smile. When Master Dartz had described the wielder of the Millennium Ring, he’d been expecting someone with presence, all sharp edges. This kid was soft and vulnerable, not daunting in the least. Isaac had been hoping for at least a bit of a _challenge_. Still, if he completed his task quickly, that would put him ahead of the stuck-up Rafael. Why their boss was so hung up on a sentimental, _delusional_ idiot like him was beyond Isaac. Who talked to their dueling deck, seriously?

“You’re that finalist from Battle City, Bakura, right?” Isaac walked closer, combat boots audible even on the carpeted floor, watching the teenager straighten and move slightly to keep the nearby table in between the two of them. The polite smile had fallen off his face to be replaced with a much more satisfying look of evaluation from under dark lashes. “How about a duel?”

Bakura finished his scan and said flatly, “So forward.” He didn’t bother backing up this time as Isaac stepped into his space, even though he was a good deal shorter and lighter. The teenager tipped his head to one side, then finished, “No, I don’t think so.” Discussion closed, he turned to grab the computer bag sitting on a nearby chair.

Isaac scoffed, more stung than he would like to admit by the outright dismissal. Where did this kid get off, giving him that look? “What kind of duelist are you, refusing a challenge?”

“One who has better things to do.” The teenager hefted the bag over his shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time to teach…amateurs.” The last word was said with a pointed look at Isaac’s biker gear, a very apparent last-second swap for a host of less nice words.

Irritated, Isaac made to grab his arm. The duelist pulled back quickly, putting the table in between them again. “Rude,” Bakura said lightly. “Do you usually follow up requests for favors with assault?” His stance gave the lie to his words, up on the balls of his feet for a quick response to any further movement.

“It was not,” Isaac responded, “a request.”

That got an amused snort. After a second, Bakura gathered himself and smiled thinly at him, and said, “Since you’re so insistent, why don’t we gamble for it?” A performer’s flourish, and he produced a pair of dice from seemingly nowhere. “We roll, and whoever gets closest to zero wins. If you win, you get your duel.”

“You should have just agreed in the first place.” Isaac crossed his arms across his chest. The Millennium Items were no match for the power of the Orichalchos, so he had nothing to worry about. “What are you waiting for?”

Bakura bounced the red and white dice up with a flick of his wrist, then caught them. “Very well.” He tipped his hand open and let the dice fall to the table with a harsh clatter. “38,” he observed, leaning over. “Not too bad.” The duelist took a step back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a clear invitation.

Isaac picked up the dice, examining them for a moment. Two unremarkable 10-sided dice, one red, one white. “Try not to fumble them when you roll,” Bakura said, interrupting his inspection. His smile was edged. “You’ll take a penalty.”

Isaac sneered at him. “What a joke.” He squeezed the dice until they bit into his gloved fingers. Then he jerked his hand over the table and dropped them.

The white die spun and landed, but the red bounced, then skidded off the edge of the table. Isaac stared after it, incredulous. Of all the…!

~

Bakura barked a laugh at the expression on the biker’s face. “First of all, your technique is terrible,” the duelist informed him. “And second…” he grinned as the biker turned eyes sparking with rage to him, and pressed a hand to his own chest and the Millennium Ring beneath his shirt, “about that penalty I promised.”

He didn’t have the materials for his preferred penalty game, but this idiot’s behavior meant a substitute was easy enough. “Penalty Game: Heedless Rush!”

“You little-“ The words were cut off as the biker clutched at his chest. Sweat broke out on his face, and he dropped to one knee.

“And game over.” Bakura scooped up the die from the table, then knelt unconcerned to retrieve the other. Shreds of magic clung to the implements of his Shadow Game. He straightened, bouncing the dice in his palm again, then tucked them back into the pocket of his jeans. It had been a while since he’d played a Shadow Game that wasn’t a duel. There was a certain savage satisfaction in how fast he could bring people down with nothing more than dice.

“There is a reason why tabletop games usually have something to stop the dice from rolling _off_ the table,”  he informed the other man, who now looked like he was having trouble breathing. He was clearly a bit too far gone to appreciate his words, so Bakura shrugged, hefted the computer bag again, and finally exited the room.

There was a taste of magic he didn’t like hanging about the man he’d left on the floor to expire, particularly that green stone around his neck. Bakura shook his head, raking a hand through the loose fall of his pale hair. Well, the Pharaoh could deal with it, he thought. It was probably his fault anyway.


End file.
